


Nothing interesting happened today

by pandanare



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Dark Comedy, F/M, First Meetings, Friendship/Love, Humor, Lemon, Past Relationship(s), Sarcasm, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-02-09 13:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18639334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandanare/pseuds/pandanare
Summary: During a Bachelorette party, Bulma accidentally summons an unconventional 'genie' who will grant her three wishes. What starts as a dream come true, turns oddly complicated when she starts wanting to spend more time with him than thinking of her final wish. After his past comes back to haunt him, Bulma struggles to find a way to keep his fate from catching up to him and taking him away forever.





	1. It is not me that you seek

**Author's Note:**

> Well this should be interesting ^^ Let's see how this story goes. This was actually my very first multi-chapter fic I wanted to work on but couldn't ever get it off the ground. I guess I didn't really have any direction but now I think I know where I want to go with it. That and I need a little break from TWEW. It's not on hiatus or anything guys, so don't worry about that. This is just another creative outlet for me

"It's just a little further, just over that crest," she wheezed to herself for morale. Nightfall was less than an hour away, but she was just too close to stop and make camp for the night. Progress aside, she had spent too many nights alone since she started on her trek, and if she had anything to say about it, tonight would be her last. A small smile graced her lips when she remembered what she was doing this for. 

Bulma squeezed the straps of her backpack and shook them a few times, ensuring they were ready for what she hoped was the final ascent. Her breath was ragged and her gauze was in desperate need of changing, but if what she was told was right, hope was waiting on the other side of the summit. 

Tiny pieces of wayward gravel forced her down onto her hands, but she continued on, gripping at rock and obsidian with determined fingers. The smell of precipitation sat heavy on the horizon, teasing what was left of her fragile patience. Geological engineering wasn't her M.O., but she knew inclement weather and loose ground was a dangerous enough cocktail to set her back more than she could afford.

She shook all the negative thoughts from her head and forced herself to keep moving. 

Jagged shards gnawed at her swollen ankles and whistling insects buzzed in her ears. It was surprising how many bugs could survive at such high altitudes, but she reasoned the air really only felt thinner to her human body. She forgot that the rest of the animal kingdom adapted to their environment while humans expected their environment to cater to them. Her mind started wandering to differences between species in the animal kingdom, wondering how all animals were mostly carbon based, yet could exhibit such opposing attributes. 

Bulma stopped to shake out the gravel impressed into her hands and spared a glance behind her. During her internal entomology dialogue, she'd covered much more ground than she thought. With perspective being skewed at such heights, she guessed she'd already gone a mile, with possibly one more to go. With renewed vigor she stood as upright as she could and carefully waded through the craggy earth.

When she finally reached the peak, she pulled herself over the sharp ridge and laid flat on her stomach, ignoring the aching in her abdomen. Her hamstrings and quadriceps felt like heated columns of over-fatigued metal. They had been used well past their breaking point, but she couldn't celebrate, not yet. And apparently, no time soon either.

Her eyes followed an intricately wrought column of equally intricate stone at least fifty feet in the air. It was white and cream, alabaster and other pastel hues. She squinted at the top but could only make out what looked like a flattened half sphere. It paled in comparison to the size of the mountain she climbed, but with its slick shaft and no means of upward conveyance, all hope was sucked out of her. She stood up but fell right back to her knees in defeat. 

"Just fucking great!" Bulma slammed her hands on the ground and screamed into the dust it created. Her back rounded like the mountain she conquered and for the first time in three nights, Bulma let her frustrations roll down her cheeks, leaving moist circles on the ground. 

A sudden flash of light forced her back onto her haunches, sniffling with a mixture of fright and awe at sight in front of her.

An almost cartoon-like creature with full, red lips and odd looking skin, like that of a sea-lion sat on a levitating carpet in front of her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound would come out. A few months earlier, Bulma would surely have peed herself in fright or pinched her arm raw attempting to wake up, but all she could do was try to place all of her questions into a neat, tidy order.

"A..Are you a genie?" She asked slowly with a grimace, not knowing if she was fully prepared to hear the answer. Worried her puffy, red eyes would somehow send a threatening message, she wiped her face and choked back another sob. "I mean, can you grant wishes? You have a turban and a magic carpet, so you must be able to right? I know you don't all look like that but-"

Bulma froze when he stepped off the carpet and slowly walked towards her. She was still on her knees but as he approached, his height remained largely unchanged.

"Please.." she clasped her hands together, religiously, for the first time since she was a child. "I need help."

A rotund hand with a soft, padded palm reached out gently placed one finger on her forehead. 

"PoPo"

0-0-0-0-0

Bulma's bleary eyes focused in agonizingly slow on a pair of pointed, cloth like shoes. A blanket had been thrown over her body, but her cheek had red creases where the tiles joined together. She placed her hand on her forehead and moaned weakly, slowly rising up to meet an elderly green humanoid type creature standing over her. 

"Hello my child. I trust you were welcomed adequately?"

Bulma's stomach lurched at the site before her and copious amounts of green and yellow bile swirled around in methodical patters on the hard tile. With no resolve left, she let her hand slip in her own mess and accepted a second defeat, face-down in vomit.

Something salty in her mouth mixed with the permeant metallic taste she'd been sucking on the past few days. Her body autonomously swallowed, but what felt like a large pill stuck to the sides of her parched throat. She jolted upright and pounded her fist against her chest until she was sure air could make its way through again. 

The animated creature from earlier swiped a heavy, rust-colored curtain aside and granted himself access to the small room she was taking residence in. One hand carried a serving tray with a small cup, the other was tucked neatly behind his back.

"I see you're awake. I hope I did not frighten you earlier. And no, to answer your question. I cannot grant wishes." He bowed in front of her and placed the tray on the table beside the bed.

Without asking, Bulma grabbed the cup off the table and began chugging vehemently, dislodging any remnants of the pill. She drank until the only liquid was from the small ring of condensation it collected on the tray. A strange, tingling sensation washed over her when she was done. Her vision was still weary and her head was heavy, but there was no more pain in her side or ankle.

"How did you...?"

"It's called a Senzu bean. Kami wanted to make sure you were feeling better before you took your leave."

"No, you didn't frighten me." She smiled gingerly and brought her knees up to her chest. "Truthfully I had no idea what to expect. It's just been a long journey. And what's a Kami?"

"This way please." As quickly as he entered the room, he left the same way. 

Bulma jumped up and quickly plodded after him. They stopped in a what looked like a lush, indoor garden with blooming newlings and thriving foliage. 

The green creature she passed out before earlier was sitting at a dainty, round table alcoved near the garden, sipping out of a tiny cup. He stood when they approached and he gently took her hand in his and guided her to a chair across from him. His flesh was cool and taut, but eerily similar to human skin otherwise. Bulma accepted the beverage he offered and picked it up for a drink when he was done pouring.

"What is it that you seek, my dear?" 

The cup in her hand chattered nervously against the saucer when he spoke. She sat it down in frustration and laid her hands into her lap. What was she going to say without sounding crazy. She looked between the two of them and decided looking crazy should be the last thing she was worried about. She was already crazy for being there. "I've come a very long way to help a ...friend."

"It's a noble gesture to help others, yes. Please continue."

Bulma nodded and inhaled a cleansing breath. "His time is coming soon, but you see," Bulma partially laughed and partially cried at her explanation, "he's in a very obscure predicament; not really of this world even, but I would do anything to help him. I haven't even used my last wish because I thought I could use it on him, but apparently the rules are so convoluted, I can't do anything." Bulma knew everything that was coming out of her mouth would be lost on anyone who hadn't lived her life the better part of the last year. "Damn it, I"m sorry," she slowed down. "I know, I sound crazy. I think I need to start from the beginn-"

"Well, Mr. Popo, it seems Vegeta has moved on after all. And he's done much better this time around. Such a lovely woman to risk her life for him." 

"Yes, Kami, as expected. It has been almost five hundred years. Almost poignant, wouldn't you say?" He tilted his head up with a smile and placed his fists behind his back. "Would you care for some more tea?"

"Yes, that would be most appreciated. Would you care for some more tea, my dear?"

Bulma's beautiful face gnarled at the words exchanged between the two creatures in front of her. She struggled to reshape her vision from the tunnel it was in, but she was just so  _utterly_  lost. Thirty years and she had never been at a loss for words. Never not knew what to say, how to retaliate, but for the second time in less than the full rotation of a clock, she was rendered speechless.

Kami gestured Mr. Popo off with a nod of his head and pushed himself away from the table. "Come with me child." He reached for her hand again, this time taking it without waiting for permission.

Bulma sulked along behind him as they walked back out to the overlook. Kami continued walking until he reached the precipice, his staff tapping at a metal edging that circumvented the base of the tower. "You must be very confused by all of this." He turned his head behind him, waiting to see if she would join him.

"I don't understand." She slowly walked closer to the edge, stopping when she stood perfectly parallel to him.  
They both peered down into the emptiness below them. It was well past dusk and not the tiniest speck of light reached the hardened earth below them.

"I can imagine not. Seeking answers only to find more questions can be frustrating."

"Just...Just please tell me everything you know," she begged, "I don't think I have the time to ask you all the questions I have."

"My dear, not a lot happens that I don't know about. You definitely don't have enough time to ask, nor for me to answer everything I know," he chuckled lightly. "It would fall on deaf ears long before-"

"Stop," she admonished. "Please. You know I mean about Vegeta. What do you know about him? And what did you mean by he finally 'moved on'?" 

"If time really is of the essence as you say, then I shall not spend it excessively. You came here to see if I could break Vegeta of his obligation and reverse his sentence. But I'm afraid, I am not the one to help you."

"What?" Bulma's face fell and Kami could see a deep pain in her eyes. 

"I understand the trouble you've gone through to get here and the time it has taken you, but Yemma is the one you seek." His voice was ripe with empathy, but it did little to comfort her.

"Fine, whatever. Can you call him here, please?" Her voice cracked as the last threads of patience were being plucked to nil.

"Waste not your time, child. Yemma's work cannot be _retrofitted_ if you will. Vegeta's fate was written long ago. He knew the consequences." 

"So he knew he was going to die and still went through with it anyway?! That's bull shit if I ever heard it," she yelled, unconcerned with the ramifications of yelling at the deity before her. "He was obviously tricked into it. If he knew then what he does now, he-

"You misunderstand Bulma. Vegeta knew exactly how long his subjugation would be. Whether or not he carefully calculated the finite outcome of his decision, we... well, we can never take that from him. If there was enough time left in his human body, then he would be free to live the remainder of his days. Never have I bear-witnessed to a half-millennium old human though. Alternately, after 500 years, don't you think he might be tired?" 

"I'm sure he's exponentially tired!" She roared. "I'm positive he's had his fill of living on borrowed time while being forced to watch everyone around him age and die while he lives another year only to serve someone else _lucky_ enough to stumble upon him." Salty liquid trailed from her nose, stinging her cracked lips.

"I don't care what he did, he doesn't deserve that," she whimpered solemnly.

"Are you unaware of the conditions that met him such fate? Why he was subject to serve for so long?" Kami stepped away from the edge slowly wandered about with no direction. "And I think _serve_ is a bit of a misnomer. I can think of far worse fates than the human condition.

"And what happens when his time is up?" she demanded, ignoring his question. "Where does he go? Heaven, hell? Where?"

"He will be gone from this world. That's all I can answer."

Bulma threw her hands up in defeat and screamed until all the air was expelled out of her lungs, collapsing to her knees. Kami knelt beside her and placed a hand on her back. "Now is not the time to exhaust your self, Bulma, you still have a long road ahead of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys sufficiently confused yet? It'll all come together, promise. XD
> 
> A word of caution though. I usually try to sleep on my writing for a bit before I post, but I'm taking a chance here and posting as is. This may mean that I'll go back and revise this first chapter a few chapters in, and in the event I do, I'll notate it in the foreword of the next chapter. Nothing fundamental though, mostly just small details.


	2. I wish it was blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm such a loser. I think it took me longer to write this preface than it did the actual story XD Mostly I was worried about stepping on people's toes, but I really wanted to cut this off at the head, so here goes:
> 
> I'm asking my amazing readers to keep an open mind with this story. A few of them may be OOC some of the time, but fundamentally they'll be the same. I'm basing their personalities a little more on actual human attributes and essentially, putting a more realistic spin on a not-so realistic story (good luck, right?) They might be selfish, sexually inappropriate, inconsiderate, bad friends etc.. I really don't know yet, but I don't want to limit their capacity for emotion because it doesn't go with their fictional character. Mostly, you might just see them doing things they most likely wouldn't do if they were kept in character with the show.
> 
> I've really only had this be an issue with one story I wrote by only one commenter, so I'm not too concerned, but I know of a few other writers that have gotten flack for it, which to me, is just plain crazy. I've read soon many stories where they were definitely OOC, but that was what made it great! Anywhosit, I just wanted to forewarn you guys so you can head back now if you want.
> 
> Onto the next chapter. A little uneventful here, but will set us up.

"Woo hoo!! Over here!" Bulma pulled up her shirt and shimmied wildly at a grinning employee behind the bar. A collective cheer emanated from the small crowd as Bulma threw her hand up and caught the beaded necklaces he tossed her direction, reveling in the on-looker attention.

"I cannot _believe_  you just did that." Chi-chi buried her face in her hands and slunk into the booth, peaking one eye between two fingers. "Have you not even an ounce of modesty?" she asked in a lowered voice, "It's the after work crowd. What if someone you know is here?"

"Don't be such a prude Chi," she laughed, "It was just my bra. I'm not the exhibitionist here, remember?" Bulma plunked back down and gestured with her thumb to another blue-haired woman dancing provocatively in a circle of slack-tyed business men. "It's not exactly like a bunch of lab geeks hang out here anway. You just need to chill out and let loose! It's the last time you're going to be doing this as an untethered woman." She picked up a shot glass and quickly downed its contents, daring her friend to get another round by dangling the glass in front of her.

"Mmmm... Maybe just one more. I'm not so sure Maron wouldn't start taking donations right here on the floor if we got her drunk enough."Chi-Chi rolled her eyes in disgust at the bikini clad woman, wiggling and jiggling before them. "And quit saying  _tethered_. Just because _you're_ still whoring it up doesn't mean I don't enjoy going home to the same person every night. 

Bulma clutched her chest and feigned hurt. "Et tu, Brute?"

"You know what I meant," Chi-Chi smirked. "Now give me one of those."

Bulma shrugged, unfazed, and laced a necklace around herself, before handing one off to her repulsed friend. "Well Maron does have that '18 and confused' look, so nothing would surprise me at this point, but I still don't see why you asked me to invite her if you don't really like her."

"Goku asked me to." Chi-Chi admitted cooly. "Don't say anything, but apparently Krillin has been talking about asking her to move in with him. Lord knows what he sees in her, other than her fake-ass tits, but what do I know, right?"

"Wow, that serious huh?" Bulma stuck out her bottom lip comically and nodded at the fresh information. "I guess he wants us to make the slut feel welcomed then?"

"Yeup." Chi-Chi begrudged with an embellished pop at the end. She held her hand high in the air until a milky-faced waitress made her way through the impeding crowd and took their final drink order.

"You know..," Bulma started, mesmerized by the impossible undulating of Maron's rhythmic body, "it's really a shame Launch had to leave early. When you get her riled up, she has just the way of making you feel welcomed."

"That she does," ChiChi agreed, "That she does. I guess we'll just have to all go out again soon before he pops the second biggest question of his life." The two women shared a sinful laugh and tapped the rims of their freshly replaced glasses together before beckoning over their third wheel for one last shot.

"To not getting pregnant on your wedding night!" they toasted, earning whistles and cat-calls from other patrons before heading out well before last call. Thanks to some smooth talking and empty promises on Bulma's part, the trio left the bar with a complimentarily paid tab and headed out for more antics.

0-0-0-0-0

"I'M GETTING FUCKING HITCHED!!! AGGGHHHHHH!!!" Half of Chi-chi's exposed torso flailed haphazardly through the sunroof as the limo sped down the tight corridor of the inner city. Her Captain and Coke hit the floor mat with a splash as Bulma grabbed for her legs and attempted to still her. "Be careful Chi! You're gonna fal-....Oh my god... do you use baby oil on your legs?" she asked, rubbing her cheek against her friend's surprisingly soft calves.

"Chi-Chi spread her unruly arms wide, giggling at the sensation of Bulma's face against her skin. "I'm queen of the world!!" The wind whipped against her face, her tangled tresses splaying behind her. "Come hither, be my second in command!"

Bulma grabbed Chi-Chi's feet and secured them on the bench's padded seat before stepping on it herself and carefully slipping half her body through the tempered glass opening. 

"Isn't this great!?" ChiChi yelled with enthusiasm Bulma wasn't sure she'd seen her exude before."I promise I'm not even that drunk anymore, but I feel so _alive_ up here! It almost feels wrong!"

"We're only like 6 feet from the ground," Bulma mused, headlights and businesses flying by them. "but it's fun to see you like this. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

"I really am! Isn't the city so much prettier on a calm night?" The remains of her voice not buffeted by the rushing air carried across the segmented glass of tautly placed buildings.

Bulma's hungry eyes drunk all the beauty of the muted city at her friend's request. It was certainly captivating enough to risk having your neck snapped by a low-flying bird she decided. The two carried on, via the sunroof, with goofy antics, waving futilely at the few passersby who were undoubtedly working late and blowing kisses to all the little people that made their night possible. 

Being preemptive, both women had taken the next day off of work, but they decided to stop for quick bite to abate any lingering effects of alcohol anyway; hangovers were for the inexperienced crowd.

"Don't eat that whole tray Chi. We still have that couples massage tomorrow and I don't want us to look all bloated and shit." Bulma crammed a hushpuppy in her mouth hypocritically. 

"Quit worrying, one jr. tray isn't going to fill up three women. Speaking of, where's Maron? I got this corndog for her and I want to see how she eats it." 

 "Oh yeah, I forgot about her. I think she's with the limo driver... I hear she gives passable road head."

"Figures." Chi-Chi blew her bangs upward with a hot breath. "Should we kill her then?"

"Nah, let her be," she said casually. "I'll make sure Krillin finds some irrefutable evidence of her infidelity before he grows some balls and asks her. Besides, I'm sure I'll get a steep discount for _whatever_ she's doing." Bulma put her straw in her mouth and slowly slid her lips down the shaft until they reached the lid, repeating the up and down motion until Chi-Chi couldn't stand it anymore.

She snorted with maniacal laughter, choking on her large tea, before pulling her friend into a death grip.

"Hey, if I did't say it earlier, thank you so, so much for this. All of this I mean. I know it was a little low key, but I don't think I could've dealt with all the cliche pink sashes, princess crowns and those stupid necklaces adorned with micro penises. No one knows me like you do."

"That's what best friend are for, Chi. I know how much you despise surprises. Besides, I'd rather reap the deals of half price sushi and Thursday night drink specials over seeing that played out 'male revue' downtown one more time," Bulma smiled jovially. 

ChiChi crinkled her nose, "Those men are all so sweaty and greasy. I'd much rather just watch Goku strip and....well you know."

A light dust of pink spread across ChiChi's cheeks and Bulma could see the sickly sweet romance in her eyes. She pinched her arm and hopped off the picnic table, heading towards the car. "Well let's get a move on then, babe. If Maron hasn't sucked him dry by now, the driver should be able to get you back safely in your _precious Goku's arms_ before ten." Bulma enunciated the last part with a cutesy, saccharin voice she knew ChiChi hated.

"Wait up a second." Chichi slung her purse around to her front and pulled out a small box, then proceeded to get down on one knee. Bulma mock gasped at her friend and covered her mouth with one hand while ChiChi took the other.

"Bulma.. I've wanted to do this for a long time....Well, like three months anyway." ChiChi managed out without giggling.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!" Bulma exclaimed, bouncing on her toes. 

"I just wasn't sure when the right time was. But seeing you tonight, standing beside me through the sunroof while bugs slapped us in the face.." ChiChi pretended to sniffle. "Well now I know. Bulma, will you...."

Bulma pursed her lips, her face swollen with suppressed laughter. 

"Will you accept this maid of honor gift?" The box lid was popped off, revealing a small, glass orb with a delicate chain looped through a tiny hoop on top. 

Bulma's eyes widened at the beauty of it and the impending urge to laugh was relinquished. She pulled it out of the box and nested it in her palm, scrutinizing it carefully.

It was not quite something she'd pick out herself, but it definitely had an air of obscurity. Almost mystical even. Upon closer inspection, the orb itself was a translucent red with a gold filigree type symbol suspended in the middle. Not any kind of mark she recognized, it almost looked like a 'V', but with another arrow coming out of the middle of it. Underneath the 'V' shape were three small stacked lines and both sections were sitting on top of something something that resembled a wide 'U' shape with points at each end. 

"I hope you like it," ChiChi stood up and rubbed her arm nervously, hoping she didn't somehow offend Bulma with a bad gift. "Goku helped me pick it out. We got it a few months back at that trade show that came through town. I know the colors are wrong, but I also know how much you like jewelry, so I thought maybe you could look past it.."

Bulma's eyes fixated on the minuscule jewel, red and gold speckles she missed the first time twinkled in an avant formation from the Cookout sign. "It's absolutely gorgeous ChiChi, thank you. You didn't have to. But thank you." 

She smiled proudly at her friend, elated that she knew her so well as to pick out something so intensely beautiful _and_ unique. "And what do you mean the color's are wrong? I love it the way it is."

ChiChi's face dropped and she stared blankly at Bulma. "Don't do that. You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about, so just go ahead and say it."

"Say what? I don't know what you're talking about, I swear," she half-laughed, guilt evident on her face.

"Say it." ChiChi demanded.

"Say what?!" Bulma pulled out her best acting skills and held her shoulders high in a shrug.

"Bulma, I swear, I will march over to that limo right now and tell Maron you want her to stay over for the rest of the week if yo-"

"I wish it was blue!" Bulma admitted, turning her nose up at ChiChi for making her prove just how human she really was.

The impatient honking of a car horn broke them from the smirking contest they ended up in and Bulma gently laid the necklace back in the box. "I love it, Chi. Really."

They shared a warm smile and walked back to the limo only to have the horn laid on again. Bulma was sure she heard ChiChi mumble something under her breath about setting Maron on fire in her sleep as they walked back, arm in arm.

"Maybe put that away?" ChiChi suggested. "If Maron gets ahold to it, there's infinite places she could hide it..."

When they got back, Maron was somehow already waiting for them in the back seat. They tapped the glass partition, separating them from the driver, and yelled for him to start back at the third address that was on the itinerary.

When they reached the other blue-hair's house, they wished her good night in a syrupy sweet voice, and told her to give Krillin their best.

"She's _such_ a god damn bitch," Bulma sneered the instant the door was closed. "Why would she rub and grind all over those guys at the bar and do _whatever else_ with limo dude when we're right here?! And why was she wearing a bathing suit? Ugh."

"Yeah, she's a bitch.." ChiChi trailed off with disinterest. "But listen, Bulma..," she bit her lip and wrestled it between her teeth, no longer interested in bashing an easy target, "I didn't get a chance to say it earlier, but thank you."

"You _did_  already tell me that," she raised her eyebrow, but with little concern. "Man, Goku must be fucking your brains _and_ your memory out. Where can I get me a guy like that?"

ChiChi merely rolled her eyes and shook her head at her crude words. "I mean thank you for Goku. I know I fucked up the whole girl code thing.."

"ChiChi..." Bulma closed her eyes and half smiled. " I told you, we were nothing more than friends with benefits. There were hardly any romantic feelings involved, and definitely not on his part. If he'd met you first, none of this would even be a thing. It's fine, really."

"I know...but mmmm-" Bulma placed her hand over her shamed friend's mouth.

"I wouldn't have set you two up if  I thought I couldn't handle it. Besides, that was like six years ago. Do you _know_ how many guys I've fucked since then?" Bulma grinned wickedly before screaming when ChiChi scooped some remnants of the ice bucket out and dripped it down her shirt.

"Sheesh..and I thought Maron was the slut." She crossed her arms and beamed in victory as Bulma picked tiny icicles from her bra. "Well unfortunately, I live within puking distance of moron... I mean Maron, so here's my stop."

ChiChi squeezed Bulma in a warm embrace, promising her a kick-ass party when it's her turn. Bulma returned the kind words by pushing her out of the car and slapping her ass as hard as her palm could manage.

"Nothing but love for ya, B!" ChiChi called back as she rubbed her rear and strolled down the pavers to her house. The porch light flicked and Bulma smiled poignantly when Goku welcomed her inside with a soft, lingering kiss.

The ride home was infinitesimally quiet. The glass partition ensured such excessive privacy, she was almost coerced to ride shotgun. She ultimately opted out, deciding she needed to prepare herself for the quiet, lonesome night ahead. And she was pretty sure the driver had no interest in listening to her gossip or talk about her problems.

Bulma tipped the driver and wished him a safe ride home when she made it back, only concerning herself anymore with a warm bath.

She kicked her heels off and slowly sauntered down the hall, stopping to check the glowing thermostat opposite the bathroom. A cold chill found her spine when she first set foot into the apartment; which she found to be odd, knowing she always set it to her optimal temperature. Deciding to live on the wild side, she cranked it up two degrees and headed for her bedroom.

By sheer memory, she navigated her room without turning on the light and dropped her gift box off on the nightstand.  She flicked the secondary light on in her bathroom to avoid harsh lights, and rifled through her dresser for a nightshirt. With little light, she had to go with function instead of fashion.

Once a soft, button up shirt was secured, one dainty hand unzipped her skirt from behind and she started to tug at the fabric on each hip, wiggling it down to the floor. She reached for the bottom of her shirt and pulled it just passed her navel before something in the mirror caught her eye. 

All the color drained from her face and her stomach knotted to the point of shriveling up and blowing away.

"I would've stopped you," a sinister, almost playful voice assured. "I'm pretty sure it would be a breach in my contract."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... which playfully sexy creature could that be? Anyone, anyone? And what would you guys do if you were in her situation?


	3. Shock and awe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, y'all have no idea how warm the feeling in my stomach gets when I see familiar names leaving kudos or comments on my works. I'm beyond flattered that I have repeat readers, so I want to give a big shout out to all of you personally. Apologies way in advance if I have some long time ones that I missed! These are just ones that I recognized from a while back. I swear, I adore each and every one of you guys.
> 
> HannaBellLecter (check out her new work, it's freaking amazing, Kami love her), Warshade, wistfulemuse, Bella_Kuran, Gilbec7796, Elianni, Byssheplz, you guys seriously rock!! 
> 
> Special shoutout to a newer one that followed and was exceedingly helpful in getting my shit together for TWEW (which should be updated soon). Thanks mucho @ ni21. A writer is lucky to have feedback like yours.
> 
> You guys really do reign supreme.
> 
> Anyways, keep an open mind and dive in!

Dead air fizzled and crackled around her, the sound of blood rushing through her ears. Time slowed to a crawl and for a suspended moment, Bulma lived outside of her body. 

She knew she was saying something, but to her plugged ears, it sounded like snow on a dying television. All the breath felt like it had been sucked out of her; words were dry and clumsy, fumbling out, blinding her to the imminent danger laying on her bed. 

Air met lung when the bedframe groaned, and in the pump of a single heartbeat, Bulma jolted back to reality, facing the tanned skin and sharp angles of her undoing. She choked on her own dry spit, unceremonious snivels and mewls warming her vocal chords, but it wasn't a scream she wielded to face her own mortality, it was a bargain.

"Whatever you want, you can have it, just leave me alone," she heard herself saying. Her nostrils flared in rapid succession, as if speaking in semaphore to tell her eyes not to show fear. Wells of placid water perched on the cusps of her lower lids, threatening to mourn for all the obligations she would never fulfill.

"Whatever _I_ want?," he countered, his tone laced with weak irritation. In a less contrite scenario, she might have even said she liked the sound of his voice.

"We both know that's not why I'm here." Her bed released him with a creak and Bulma's stomach felt like a weight was dropped in it.

If only she could hear her parents' voices one last time; just a quick phone call to thank them for the unconditional love and support for the more than thirty years they had together. Never seeing their faces again was enough to break her resolve, tears dividing her face into quarters.

"Then why are you here?" She choked out, placing both hands on the dresser behind her. Partially to palm anything hard she could weaponize against him in a final attempt at her life, partially for support. Her knees felt like they'd been sold off for scrap and she was sinking into the soft, pliable earth with every step he took closer. She felt something solid under her hand and she shifted her eyes briefly to try to gauge its potency for protection, but instead of identifying the stick of deodorant under her hand, something else caught her eye. A square photo tucked into the bezel of her mirror. As if by design, a small stream of light lit up the picture and ChiChi's eyes bid farewell to Bulma in a bittersweet sendoff. 

Her delicate lips turned down, gnarling into a woeful grimace at her beautiful friend. Steady streams from her tear ducts and nostrils pooled at their confluence in the soft divot just above her lip.

"Please," she sniffed, "what do you want from me?"

"I _want_ to get this over with." To her, his voice sounded a razor's edge away from taking action and she felt it slicing methodically through her skin. 

Thus far, all attempts at compliance yielded futile results, but she just couldn't bring herself to do any physical damage control as he advanced on her.

"Stop!" she begged, letting go of the canister and holding up her hands as non-threatening as possible. "Just tell me what you want and if it's within my power I'll do it, just  don't-"

"Okay, enough," his orotund voice boomed. He eyed her partially illuminated body carefully, drinking in the full vision before him in such a way that made her feel unclean. At her request, he stopped advancing and shifted back onto his heel. 

"Oh, I get it," The confused look on his face grew into a malevolent grin, wide with ostentatious satisfaction. "You want to do that weird role reversal thing, correct? Is that why you're taking my lines?"

"W..Wha..Lines?" Bulma swallowed hard, no semblance of moisture left in her mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about," she confessed, leavening a beguiled look on his face.

He crossed his arm and strummed his fingers against his bicep. "Is that so?"

She wasn't out of the thick of it yet, but there was a good six feet between them she surmised. Maybe if she kept him in a verbal engagement, it would distract him enough to grab her phone and bolt for the bathroom? Or maybe she could trick him into reducing her plant to just one step?

"Please..." a defeated voice whispered. "Can I just call my parents? I just want to tell them I love them."

"After 500 years, you would think I've seen it all, but getting parents involved is even a new kink even for me," he mumbled. "And why are you crying?"

His arms crossed his chest and one eyebrow arched high on his forehead. 

_Is he really expecting an answer_  she pieced together in her mind, the effect of swallowing tears taking its toll on her throat. 

Rather than waiting any longer for an answer, he nonchalantly strolled over and flipped the light switch on. "Because I would _never_ come across as that timid. And I definitely don't take my clothes off." A charmingly boyish smirk grew across his face. "But now that you know I'm here, feel free to continue."

Bulma's half functioning brain managed to draw two conclusions: someone had swapped her feet out for concrete blocks and maybe, just maybe, she wasn't going to die tonight. 

Of its own volition, Bulma's breath continued to hitch while she tried to communicate as best she could. "You're not going to kill me then?" Tears continued to drip from her chin, a few landing on her feet.

"Kill you?" He repeated. Vegeta had seen many things, many times and in many different iterations, but _never_ anyone as good at acting as she was. Either she was bound for the red carpet or ... "You think I'm here to kill you?" 

His smug expression subsided and a genuinely surprised one replaced it. Bulma couldn't understand what he didn't understand. Why would she think otherwise? He was the one that broke into her apartment and stalked her in the dark until she was distracted enough to be shot? Stabbed? Strangled? 

The more grounded she became, the more her senses came back to her. There was no sign of forced entry that she could see, he didn't have any visible weapons on him and he made no attempt to conceal his identity. Something just wasn't adding up. "Fine then, what were you looking for? I don't have much jewelry and I don't keep cash her-"

"I'm not here to steal from you, idiot woman. I'm here to grant your damn wishes."

The ridiculous confession hung in the air until Bulma couldn't take it standing up anymore. Her legs were past the point of giving out, and her head was spinning off its axis, but she was still reluctant to make any sudden movements around him. She plopped down of the floor right in front of her dresser and stared like nothing short of a madwoman.

Her lips moved a couple of times, forming different words, but they all sounded too offensive in her head. Certainly he could've escaped from a mental institution, but reminding him of that by asking might not have been in her best interest. Still, no other plausible questions were surfacing, and from the looks of it, he was just as mute.

The flame-haired intruder leaned against the wall and a staring contest ensued. More like a glaring contest on the one end, but what else was there to say?

"What the actual fuck is happening?" Bulma asked sternly, deciding that if it was her time, she would just have to be ready, but this debacle had to end.

"I'm not sure myself." The sterness in his voice mirrored hers but with an added touch of vex. "You really don't know why I'm here?"

She shook her head solemnly at him, almost in shame. His eyes scanned the room at her response, landing on her nightstand. He gestured with a tilt of his chin at the box sitting atop it. "Where did you get that?"

Bulma quickly followed his line of sight and creased her blue-dusted brows. "T..The necklace?"

"Hn."

"ChiCh....A friend. A friend gave it to me tonight."

"Why?" He snapped, his tone reverting to a more exasperated one.

"I..It was a present. She's getting married and it's a maid-of-honor gift."

"You're telling me someone else had that in their possession and they just _gave_ it to you?" 

The incredulousness in his tone had Bulma wondering if something else was at play here. She liked..maybe even loved the necklace, but if it held as much value as he was making it out to...maybe she could offer it in exchange. "Look, I don't know what all this is about, but my friend gave it to me as a present earlier tonight. She said she got it at some sort of trade show thing? I don't really remember. Just take it if you want it." She could feel tears starting to heat up behind her lids again.

"This is almost pitiful to watch." His voice rang cooly. "So you really have no idea why I'm here?"

"NO! How many times do I need to say that?! Are you not listening?" she yelled. So much tension had been building in the air, the levee of self-preservation wasn't enough to hold her frustrations any longer. "I have no idea why you're here. Do you think I'd be standing in a puddle of liquid fright if I did?" The tears were dissipating slowly, agitation replacing them.

"Well I'm certainly not here to kill you, though I don't know how you've managed to survive this long with such an offensive shriek." He pulled his hands away from his ears and simply stared in bewilderment at the situation. "Pfft...And just when I thought I'd seen it all.."

Bulma's teeth ground together at his words. He kept mumbling abstract sentences but still didn't offer any explanation as to why he was in her room. Once the dust settled somewhat, she felt brave enough to stand, her disrobed lower half painfully exposed between them. Thus far, she was still intact and still held possession of all the blood pumping through her veins, encouraging her to make a request.

"Can you turn around, please?"

"Don't flatter yourself. You're hardly the first compromising position I've been summoned into." His words were icy, but he made a moot point by smirking at her glowing cheeks and sizing her up before obliging.

Her sock and underwear drawer was ripped from its track and a pair of boxers were worked quickly over her legs. With his attention still focused on the wall in front of him, Bulma reached for her phone, hoping to discreetly call the police. When she pressed the 9 button, an audible beep could be heard and he turned around.

"Really?" His voice was full of disinterest, but she was still frightened enough to drop the phone. He rolled his eyes at her reaction, thinking they'd moved past that by now.

"I'll make this very easy for you....um..." He walked over to the nightstand and picked up sealed envelope addressed to her. "....Bulma. That _necklace_ your friend gave you has quite lucrative properties. I'm assuming you have no idea how this happened, but regardless, you summoned me and I'm here to grant you three wishes. Simple enough?"

With her mouth agape, Bulma's eyes shifted between him and the door, until the only plausible answer finally revealed itself. "That pot we smoked was laced with something, wasn't it?" she asked with relief. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted that kid!" 

A weight felt like it was lifted off her and she breathed easy again. "Oh my god, I'm so stupid! You're not really even here are you? It was probably laced with LSD or something!" A heartfelt laugh bellowed deep from her gut and she walked towards him, knowing that when she reached out, nothing physical would be there and all would be right with the world again.

She laid one flat palm on his chest, warm and impassable. Her fingers scrunched up a wad of his shirt, repeating the motion until all the air had been let out of her theory.

The smile dropped from her face one side at a time, and she shook her head dejectedly. "I don't understand..."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," he sneered sarcastically. Gloom and confusion fought for rights of expression on her face, but short of reversing time and preventing all of this from ever transpiring, he was wasn't sure what to do himself. Historically, going with his gut didn't serve him well, but there were no options left.

"I'm not going to hurt you so stop crying." 

Bulma tightened both her lips into a fine line and slowly sank onto her bed. If she wasn't poised to believe otherwise, she might accept it as the truth. 

Up to this point though, he hadn't done anything contradictory. She was still alive and unharmed. But did he really expect her to believe the asinine psychobabble he tried to unload onto her? _Hardly_

"If you don't want anything here, you need to leave," she said in a finite tone, not wanting to leave room for opposition. Bulma's disdain for cowardice was beginning to show through, but her phone was only a few feet away and she could sprint for the bathroom if things got heated.

"Hmmph...Never in my life." He smirked at her and shook his head comically. "But hey, they're your wishes, squander them if you so choose." 

His fingers lightly brushed the box the necklace was in as he walked towards her dresser. Strangely, he picked up her phone and started typing onto screen. "If and when you _do_ change your mind, do me a solid and just call me." He shook the phone in front of her for a second. "This whole "summoning" thing is a bit primeval and quite inconvenient for me more often than not."

He tossed the phone in her direction, landing it with a soft thump on the square of blanket beside her, and headed out her bedroom door.

The front door opened and closed a second later, leaving Bulma in a dire state of shock and awe on her plush, carefree bed.

0-0-0-0-0

There was a foot-shaped ware pattern forming in her carpet and her thumb fielded contact after contact in her phone, trying to find out who he was, what alias he might be under. Name after name didn't ring any bells. She was beginning to lose hope when there were no more T's left. _I certainly don't know anybody who's name starts with 'U' or even 'V' for that ma-_  

"Vegeta?' His name on her lips was the first word she could hear herself utter normally since her _episode_. Her perception of reality had finally come back and at last, her voice sounded like _her_ voice.

"Vegeta..." she repeated. That had to be it! Most of the other names she didn't recognize did have some semblance of familiarity.. but Vegeta? Hell, she wasn't even sure she was pronouncing it correctly. Now that she had a name, maybe she could... could... what? Call him? Tell ChiChi a guy named Vegeta was waiting for her when she got home? Have Goku beat him up?

It crossed her mind more than one time to phone for the police, but what would her emergency be? A dark and mysterious stranger who looked to be roughly her age gained access to her apartment -without breaking in-, refused to steal anything, left her completely unharmed, and was nice enough to twist the lock on the door handle before he left? 

More than likely they would probably file charges of a false report or obstruction of justice, thinking she had some 'victim' fetish that got a little too intense. _Great_ . Bulma rubbed her tired eyes, thinking maybe she should just pack it in and regroup tomorrow, but bars of light shining forming on the adjacent wall, told her she'd stayed up far too long and missed the opportunity for sleep. She peeled a slat down on the blind and quickly jerked her hand away as if it burned her. The sun was so perfectly orange and wavy; yuck. 

And now she was tasked with breaking the bad news to her friend.

As much as she needed her upcoming appointment, there was just no way she was going to lay naked on a table while someone in a small room with a closed door touched her. Reluctantly, Bulma informed her dearest friend of the latest development.

~ _Please, please, please don't kill me, but I've been up all night. I don't think I'm going to be able to make it today. Can you get a replacement #WorstFriendEver (insert anxious face emoji)_ ~

Bulma waited with bated breath for her phone to vibrate with a response. 

~ _Not surprised this happened, but no worries, love. I hope you get to feeling better, but for future reference, we are never doing (insert pot leaf emoji) again #ChiChiKnowsBest (insert kiss face heart emoji)_ ~

~ _You're the greatest! Love you, text you later :)_ ~

She yawned fervently and went for a pair of yoga pants and a long t-shirt, deciding the least she was owed was a morning pick-me-up. All of her window locks were checked tediously and she tested the efficacy of the deadbolt three times before heading out the door and down the street to her second favorite coffee shop.

"Just a coconut milk macchiato please, light ice." The clerk offered a quick smile and once her card was removed, handed her the receipt and hurried up on her order. She chose a cozy corner seat, and pulled out her phone once again. 

Her shoulder length ponytail twisted upon itself by the time she made up her mind about what to do. Sure, she didn't techincally enlist the buddy system, but she was by no means alone. The before work crowd was bustling in and at least she was in a public place.

That feeling of being out of touch with reality slowly set in again, so she slowed her breathing and took control of her emotions. Of all the take-aways from last night, the one that calmed her the most was the vision that flashed in front of her eyes.

Though it was brief, a lifetime's worth of past indiscretions, milestone memories, renewed friendships and repeat mistakes flew past her in a grand flash when she first noticed the other presence in the room. So many things had happened in her seemingly short life, good, bad, in between and it reminded her how lucky she was to be human. How many emotions she had the capacity to feel. Her natural reactions to stimuli. Though she didn't want to die, it was humbling to know how fragile the human life can be. 

Essentially, she looked death in the face and lived to tell about it. What was one more walk on the wild side?  
Besides, she was no clairvoyant, but she just couldn't picture herself going belly up in a coffee shop.

She took one last look at her surroundings, making sure to note both exits and the impending rush of patrons, before letting her fingers do the walking.

_~Can you meet now? -Bulma, from the apartment you faux burglarized.~_

She strummed the table top nervously, struggling to remember what he looked like. Definitely around her height, maybe slightly taller, supremely black hair, dark eyes, perfect teeth....

"Ugh..What am I saying?" Bulma physically shook the unwelcome thought from her head and jerked when the table magnified the vibration from her phone. Part of her was hesitant to turn it over, but she facilitated this, so there was no going back now.

_~Now as in **right** now?~_

"What the fuck?" she mumbled bitingly. "Like you have anything better to do." For all she knew, he did, she just wouldn't take be second on his priority list after scaring at least ten years off her life. 

~ _Yes, right now! I'm at the coffee shop at Park and Church street, the one with the giant coffee mug outside. I'm in the back corner._ ~

A long moment of silence had Bulma's toes furling and unfurling in her slip-ons, beginning to rethink her decision. She mentally repeated the mantra about confrontation producing closure, but was cut off when her phone lit up.

~ _Fine, give me twenty minutes. But don't say I never did anything for you.~_

She snuffed out a small laugh at his response, chocking it up to her fright addled mind looking for humor anywhere it could get it.

Her blue eyes anxiously scanned every suit and skirt that shuffled in and out. The monotony of their rehearsed patterns forcing her to bite even harder on her fingernails that threatened to peel themselves from the cuticle to avoid the treachery of her maw any longer. 

Like a siren's call, she noticed the weak sound of the bell ringing above the door for the first time since she'd gotten there and spit out an inconspicuous bit of keratin. Bulma, along with time and place, froze at the familiar site that had already managed to lock deep eyes on her and headed in her direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna be real guys, I was a beer in when I wrote most of this so let's see how I feel about it tomorrow... and yes, I know, I'm a lightweight XD Perks of getting older I guess. My husband doesn't mind a cheap date though.
> 
> Enough about that though, let's have some confrontation!! What do you think guys? Where does it go from here? Maybe he'll throw her on the table and make his own whipped topping? We can hope, but probably too soon... ;)


	4. Nothing interesting happened this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm… For whatever reason, I couldn’t get to the intended word count for this chapter so it’s a bit short. Apologies ahead of time for that one. I could have made it longer, but this is one of those explanatory chapters that really just lays the base for the next scene. Since not too much excitement is afoot here, I decided to end it to forgo too much filler and get a much needed update out… and maybe work on another chapter of SYOTOS too, I’m not saiyan either way XD 
> 
> But that all segways nicely to my next (more important) point. I know I said I wouldn’t be able to give timeline updates for any of my stories, but I feel like that maybe makes me somewhat less accountable. With that, I'm still not going to make promises I can’t keep, but I am making an earnest effort here to update in a more reasonable amount of time. I get sidetracked when I don’t and it makes it hard to get back into my groove. I wouldn’t be totally against it at all if some lovely readers ‘checked’ me once in a while and kindly reminded me you guys are due for an update. The last thing I want to do is have another SYOTOS fiasco and not update for a year! But I’ve somehow managed to get some words on paper for all three of the multi-chapter fics, so hopefully I’ll have some better stuff for you guys soon. Thanks for hanging in there with me!

Bulma scraped the napkin she’d been nervously tearing to bits in a manicured pile before sweeping it onto the floor for someone else to worry about. 

_Just like you practiced_ she repeated mentally, lifting her chin to meet him.

The chair legs across from her grated against the faux-wood tile as it was pulled away from the table.

“Listen bud,” Bulma began, firmly planting her hands over the sound of wood across ceramic. “I thi-” 

When her eyes met his, an unfortunate thing happened. Despite her opposition in the matter, given the choice, he was still every bit the vision she remembered last night. 

A vision that seemed to lose itself within the room. 

“I think the clock struck thirteen,” she bubbled out in garbled mess seconds before his face melted into the oil-paintings on the walls, which rapidly traded places with the ceiling and the floor. Bulma felt her mouth being forced shut abruptly when it hit something hard. Words swirled in her ear like notes caught in a whorl, and there was a dull thud before smacking what she assumed was the ground.

A hand on her cheek made her eyes rise to meet a comparably unique pair that twisted her insides from navel to nose. An impure thought ran through her mind for a fleeting moment and she placed a hand to his jaw before all the lights turned off.

“Give her air,” she heard just outside the buzzing in her ear. Her neck felt like it was being lifted and craned in various directions before a cold, lingering shock was administered against her forehead..

Her lids slowly wrapped like furling a projector screen and metallic and salt mistreated the sensitive taste-buds on the tip of her tongue. Pain was secondary to taste when she touched it to the back of her front teeth.

Two gloved hands were framing her face when her eyes opened fully. Her feet were elevated and someone had thrown a jacket on top of her. Instead of the nitrile gloves of a paramedic, clear, food grade ones wrapped from her jaw to just under her ear.

“You’re going to be fine,” the employee assured. “You just had a little fainting spell. I’m going to sit you up slowly, but don’t stand yet.” _Where’d you get your medical degree from_ she disparaged internally in a sloppy jab. Her brain was starting to send and receive signal again, but only enough to half-ass an insult.

Her self-important wisecracks were cut short when a man, seemingly in his late fifties, adorned with a prominent skin tag under his left eye, flashed a light dead center, constricting her pupils. “Just like that,” he cooed in a soothing voice. “Thank you young man, that was very helpful.” He smiled to someone beside her and she felt the crumb-spekcled gloves leave her skin, depositing remnants of pound cake and snickerdoodles.

“Like he was saying, you just experienced a little bit of syncope, a vasovagal reaction.” He smiled at her this time, not showing any teeth, just lips pressed tightly against each other and stretching from cheek to cheek. He dropped his light back into his pocket and scavenged around until he happened on a Life-saver. “Try this.”

She reached for the mint but her hand was immediately called to duty near lowest part of her back, just at the rise of her tailbone.

“Does that hurt?” The man offered a concerned look and motioned for permission to lift her shirt.

“Umm…” Bulma started to speak, but found it hard to form physical words yet. She blew out a slow breath and swallowed some lingering blood, wishing he could read her mind instead.

“I know that’s probably not what you want someone to do after blacking out.” His face was warm and trusting. “I’m Dr. Markham. I was getting my weekly fix when you body slammed the table. Nice execution by the way, but you can trust me, there are plenty of witnesses.” His face was pure as a calf that wouldn’t see the light of day.

“Lucky for me,” she managed with a faint smile. 

“That’s just my hand, okay?”

Bulma nodded, appreciative he was being so professional with his impromptu exam. Her eyes wandered around the small quarters as he prodded at her skin. Thankfully, the coffee shop actually cleared out somewhat, but it was still in a state of disarray due to an excess of patrons and deficit of employees.

“Mmm.” Bulma lurched forward and sucked in air sharply when a jolt of pain shot up her spine.

“Bingo,” she heard from over her shoulder. “You have a little knot starting to form, can you fully extend your leg?”

She demonstrated by stretching it out until it hit the built-in seating against the wall, raising it up slightly and moving it left to right when he asked her to.

“Well, other than a bruised tailbone, I don’t really see anything concerning. I think you may have just nicked the edge of the bench when you slid off the table.” 

“I can taste a little blood. I think I bit my tongue too.” 

“Ouch,” he grimaced with sympathy. “Stick it out for me.”

After another quick exam, he confirmed there was a sizeable gouge near the tip, but the skin would regenerate in a few days.

“Do you have any immediate plans today?” he asked.

Bulma shook her head.

“Good. Take the rest of the day to relax. Alternate with heat and ice and try to calm whatever it is that’s bothering you. Don’t be surprised if that knot gets bigger before it starts to recede too.”

Bulma thanked him and with the assistance of a few patrons, stood up, albeit, shakily. Her legs felt moderately fatigued, like she’d gone on a long bike ride, or conveniently forgot to say no to more shots, but she grabbed her purse and headed out the door, kindly refusing the offers to walk her home.

Halfway to her apartment, she realized she had stolen someone’s jacket.

Someone must have wrapped it around her when they helped her off the floor, stupidly assuming that she would purchase a man’s jacket, and one which didn’t even fit at that! What was worse, the sweater she threw on was missing in action.

“Maybe I’ll just wish for a new one,” she mused weakly, her body coming to a grinding halt when the realization of why she was ever in that cafe to begin with came flooding back.

“That would be a flagrant waste when you only have two left, don’t you think?”

Bulma stayed perfectly still. Her body didn’t tremble any more, just helped her hold down what she knew, unmistakably, to be earth. Her poor, abused back doing most of the work.

The most preposterous thought crossed her mind when heard the now familiar measure of his voice. “Would she ever think about him again? She shucked the cocoon of who she was yesterday..hell, even twenty minutes ago and confronted him without the fear of falling anymore...

“Are you going to hurt me?” she asked intentionally softly, her thin brows knitting together. “Because you either need to do it now or never come near me again.”

“How many times do I have to - ” he stopped mid sentence and lowered his voice a scant degree, turning away from her mess of a hairdo. It was laughable- laden with muffin crumbs- and doing its best to distract him from her unusual pallor.

“This was your idea,” he snapped defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was busy and you -”

“No,” she halted his words, holding up her hand. “Whatever little game you’re playing, it’s not funny. You can’t really grant wishes. No one can.” Bulma felt like a different place and time altoether, like she was having a conversation spared for only when you’ve truly lost it your mind.“ I highly suggest you get some professional help. You’re a good looking guy, don’t waste it behind bars. Come near me again and I’ll have you arrested.”

The look on his face was unplaceable, something he had to have perfected after years of ...well it didn’t concern her anymore. Her only concern was leaving his vicinity as soon as possible, assured that the countenance he wore just might upheave the ground she was working so hard to hold down.

She looked behind her every other block, until she was in the safety of her apartment building, zipping up to the third floor like an amusement ride.

Bulma was met with two smiling faces when the doors separated ans she bent down and petted Gunther, the French Bulldog that belonged to her neighbor.

“I’m surprised to see you taking any time to yourself, Bulma. If I had known you were home today I would have spared a bottle of wine.”

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” she said in laughter, leaning back to avoid lashings from the pooch’s erratic tongue. “It was really last minute actually. I had plans that got rearranged, so I didn’t even know myself until this morning. Maybe I can stop by later for tea? I love your outfit by the way.”

“Absolutely. It’s been a while since we’ve talked. ” She grabbed a wide piece of her boho style skirt and swayed it back and forth. “Thanks! I tye-dyed it myself. Notice the hands?”

They were covered in blotchy patches of hyper-pigmented colors.

“Oh, yeah. Well I always have spare gloves, hit me up next time.”

Knowing the chances of meeting were slim, both women exchanged courtesies and went into their respective apartments,

Bulma made it halfway in at least.The door was open, but the key was still hilt deep in the lock. She tried desperately to remember if she left the kitchen light on or not. 

It pinged and glowed as if it had been active for a little while she reasoned, quieting her addled mind.

Once she ventured across the threshold, she shrugged the jacket onto the ground, pushing it away with her foot and grabbed the small box out of her purse. She couldn’t remember why she even took it with her to begin with.

She sat it on her coffee table and walked over to the Keurig with a sigh. There was just something so gratifying about paying beaucoup bucks to watch someone else prepare you a mediocre coffee

 _Were the last few hours even real_ she asked herself, popping a pod into the closeable portion. Maybe she should take that doctor’s advice and rearrange it to a more desirable recommendation. A vacation was probably what she really needed.

When the dark liquid ceased pouring, the mug looked more like a smoke stack, billowing out plumes of steam. She sat the cup in the fridge to cool it down, scared adding ice would water it down.

Looking around, she didn’t feel unsafe like she thought she would, returning to the scene of the crime, but then again, _what crime_ she reminded herself. When she sat down on her sofa, she was emphatically reminded, at least _one_ wasn’t embellished fabrication; the nice shiner she was sure to have on her perfect ass. _And_ the jacket that was resting against the baseboard by her kitchen sink.

Bulma pulled out her phone and tried to find something to do, but she was plagued with thoughts of a deep widow’s peak and piercing eyes, wrought and convicting at the same time. _And what was with that look he gave me? I’m the one who should be pissed, not him._

Her eyes bounced back and forth between the early morning news and the rectangular glass on which the box sat. She tapped her foot on her table anxiously, scooting the little present with her toes closer to the edge. It toppled over when she jerked suddenly, pretending to twitch from a cold chill. 

There was really no reason she shouldn’t be able to enjoy it, she decided, tired of ignoring it. It was a beautiful gift after all, and apparently it wasn’t of interest to anyone else, so there was no danger it enjoying it publicly. A small smile graced her lips as she pried at the lid, ready to revel in its beauty again.

Bulma’s smile fell one side at a time when it opened for her. She sat it on the table and glared at it uncomfortably, like being in the same room with it was somehow dangerous to her health.

One exploratory palm slid across the table when her mind started cycling again.

Between her fingers, to her eyes, even from the smell, it was impossibly similar to the one her friend gifted her with hours earlier. But it wasn't. Couldn't be.

“How did you do that?” she creased her eyebrows sharply, demanded an answer from the tiny glass orb that now competed with her eyes for bluest blue. She squeezed it until she thought she heard the splintering of glass. 

Bulma began to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Laughter turned to frustrated whimpers of utter confusion and then both subsided, only to leave her mute and searching for answers. Maybe it was blue the whole time? Or maybe ChiChi was playing a trick on her? That could be it. Maybe it had some sort of color changing properties and she…

“No, that’s dumb, Bulma,” she chastised soflty. “ChiChi knows I hate surprises.”

She was trying to approach this with a scientific mind, but she was just too close to the situation she continuously reminded herself. Now that she had vested interest, she wasn’t thinking clearly, getting upset over trivial things instead of objectively looking at the big picture.

Aside from the teensy occurrence of having her apartment broken into, what was she getting ruffled about?

Obviously it was a trick and someone had switched her necklace out for an imposter, banking on them being far enough away that she would have no recourse when she picked it up and immediately recognized the ol’switcheroo. Naturally that would be upsetting to anyone, having property stolen from you. Especially something that was so dear.

But who knew about it? Maron, maybe?

 _Yeah right, she couldn’t put together a two piece puzzle.Then again...she has slept with a lot of guys, probably bamboozled them out of a kidney or two_ .

But sleight of hand wasn’t Maron’s style, more like hand job.

She kept going back to infuriatingly _unscientific_ thoughts. It was maddening, but everything seemed to point back to _him_ and his bafoonish drivel, prattling on about ‘wishes’ and ‘500 kinks’ or whatever. She banished the last one from her head, positive she mixed it his words up in her fret. 

Four K-cups later, the explanations she was sure she’d be teeming with, simply weren’t there. 

Bulma pursed her lips tight and shook her head roughly at her next thought. “Nope. Not gonna happen. That is not an option.”

She sat on it some more

Maybe she _could_ approach it scientifically after all. All she needed to do was find the easiest thing to disprove first and...well...do that. That was just good street smarts, really. When that comes up a dead end, and it inevitably would, she could just lop it off and leave it to return to the earth.

It was settled then, she decided firmly. She had lost her mind. 

“If I do this..” she adhered her hand on her forehead like a visor. “...If I do this, it’ll prove I’m not crazy.” For a brief moment, she thought about her flawed rationale. Wouldn’t doing this mean she _was_ crazy? Then she forgot her reasoning behind that argument as well. She dispelled all thought by waving her hands around in vague patterns, and just getting on with what was sure to be a ‘dark time in her life’.

Bulma pressed her palms flat and leaned her forehead against her interlaced thumbs, smiling stupidly at herself, knowing she would never live this down.

“Veg-...Vegeta, I want to make a wish.” 

“And here I thought you nev-

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH---MMMMMMMM” 

A hand was forced over her mouth and she was walked backwards into a wall. Bulma wasn’t even sure when or how she stood up, but she found herself backed into a corner with a very displeased looking man in front of her. 

“Really?! This again?” he yelled.

Scared she had _royally_ pissed him off the time, she started to cry again, sucking the padded part of his palm in and out of her mouth. She struggled to get air into her lungs with his hand over her mouth, but being in no position to compromise, she squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to slow her breathing. It wouldn’t. 

Death was imminent.

Vegeta rolled his eyes at her theatrics. Obviously he had no intention of killing her, but he did decide to let her cheeks go turgid for fun, before sparing her from suffocation.

“I’m going to let go,” he instructed slowly, “but you need to quit screaming.” He held one finger in front of her face, warning her how serious he was.

Bulma nodded, fruitlessly trying to swallow her stomach contents.

He removed his hand a millimeter at a time in case she didn’t keep up her end of the bargain. He waited for her to say something, but she fumbled around blindly, searching the wall beside her for anything to hold herself up with.

“I think I’m having a cardiac episode.” She wore her arm like a sash across her chest, making sure her heart was still beating, and slid down the wall. “Can you bring me back to life if I die?” she asked breathily

“Why would I? You’re the least palatable person I’ve ever come across.”

She seemed to ignore his remark and continued mumbling to herself absently. “This can’t be happening,” she whined with the little air that was left in her lungs.

“Oh yeah,” he retorted dryly, “ because this is such a _terrible_ thing to have happen.” 

“You don’t get it, I’m a scientist! Do you understand the implications here!? This goes against everything I’ve ever...well EVERYTHING!!”

She held her hand out in front of her, flipping up one finger at a time, tallying random quantities in her head and mouthing words to herself. Wishes aside -she still wasn’t resolute with that-, there was no such an invention that facilitated human transportation in a matter of seconds. Definitely not one that would bring her from whatever lamp he resided in into her living room! She stood up and gingerly walked over to him, her movements stiff but truncated, and waved around the air in his vicinity. She looked more like an out of practice mime pretending to be burned every time they laid hands on the box.

“There’s nothing there.” She dropped her hands to her side and her nose wrinkled with an unflattering scowl.

“Tch. They really broke the mold with you. You should just stick to taking your clothes off.” 

Both hands covered her face like a veil and she smoothed all of her hair backwards. “Well in that case, I need a drink. And a smoke” She looked up to Vegeta and held out her hand. “Got any other bad habits I could borrow?”

“I’m not sure that lowering your reaction time or inhibitions is the best use of your time. Why don’t you enjoy some of that muffin in your hair instead.”

Before she could acknowledge his taunt, her phone started ringing. She bolted out of his path over the counter, snatching it out of her purse. She silenced it without so much as a glance and carried it with her to the couch, cautiously stepping around him. Probably the first time in her life she ever avoided a man with such _credentials_.

“Well you might as well sit,” she yelled over her shoulder in irritation.

To her surprise, he joined her, but only as far as the armrest. He’d crossed his arms and she could hear the beating of his fingers against his bicep. The strumming of his fingers was reminiscent of a clock counting down the hours, as if saying he had other places to be. But how could he? He wasn’t even… 

Bulma stopped mid-thought when a terrible realization she had yet to consider hit her.

“So is.. Like...is there really a God?” 

She turned just enough so she could see him, but deciding he no longer felt like the most threatening thing in her life, she brought her legs up on the couch and rotated fully towards him.

“I’m sure I don't know. Are we done here?”

“Hardly! And how can you not know?” she snipped. “Aren’t you some kind of omniscient, empyrean-like…” Bulma’s sentence faded with the color of her face as a more pressing question made its way to the forefront of her brain.

“Wait, is _Hell_ real?!” 

“Woman, I don-”

“Holy shit,” she screamed, the pitch of her voice elevating drastically with each passing second. ”I’ve been such a bad person!”

“Here we go..” Vegeta grumbled to himself, wondering how he ended up as part of her personal therapy session.

“I’ve slept with so many people,” she blurted. “And some of them just because they were ugly and I felt bad! Another time, I fed my goldfish to my cat. I said it was in the name of science, but I was really just a terribly curious kid!”

He was at a loss for words when she reached over and grabbed his collar, shaking him violently. 

“And I have such a horrible mouth! I scream the worst things during sex! Sex with people I’m not married to, mind you ! I’ve actually called guys ‘mother fuckers’ in bed and asked if they liked my pussy’. Like, who says tha-”

“Will you stop!” Vegeta spluttered, pushing her away and attempting feebly to do something with his shirt. As if a life-sentence wasn’t bad enough, now he was subject to _this_.

“Sorry.” She tucked her hair behind one ear and then ran that hand down the back of her neck, squeezing at the muscles.

“That actually felt kind of good. Can I spill some more?” she asked in half-distress, half-laughter.

“Why not? Apparently the torture never ends for me…” He set his jaw tightly at his words, clenching his teeth as punishment for letting his mouth go that far.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” His tone left no room for interpretation. He was not interested in relishing her with details from his past.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Bulma started to say something without his permission, but too many thoughts were flying at her and it came out as a mixture between the ‘Why and How’ sounds.”

“That wasn’t even a word,” he snorted. “And no.”

“But it...hmmm.” Bulma sighed when her phone went off again, this time sliding it under her thigh to silence it.

“How do you have a phone?”

“You should have prefaced that with ‘Can I ask a stupid question?” he said, turning away from her.

“Well I was going to ask something else, but whoever keeps calling me brought up a good point. How does a _genie_ as you so claim to be, have a phone?”

“Genie” he laughed dryly. “They never should have made that movie.” He looked over, but her face didn’t falter. Any explanation he could think of would just set him up for further questions. Not to mention the minute fact that he really wouldn’t be able to get away from her if she held out her wishes due to a lack of merit on his end.

Did it really have any forbearance on _anything _anymore though?__

__“The same way you do,” he shrugged. “Pay my service provider every month.”_ _

__She gave him a look that said _I’m not buying it _, but surprisingly, she nodded and turned back to face the tv. A few seconds of silence passed until there was a knock on her door.___ _

____Bulma acknowledged the sound with a dismissive look. It wasn’t unheard of for her to get to caught up in a horror movie and get a tad vocal when the suspenseful score led to a door slamming or someone being snuck up on. In their error, the management office called a few times to pleasantly encourage her to keep her salacious exploits to a minimum in their error._ _ _ _

____“Don’t worry, they’ll go away,” she said unprovoked._ _ _ _

____“I was not worried.”_ _ _ _

____“Okay.”_ _ _ _

____The two sat in a palpable silence only for the knocking to ensue again, this time with more vigor._ _ _ _

____“Ugh..” Bulma sneered in its direction, but focused her efforts on something more pressing. “So I get two wishes? I thought you said it was three?” She raised her eyebrow, curious to see what he could come up with._ _ _ _

____“Yeah, my bad,’ he said casually. “That was just the best explanation I could come up with on the spot. I forgot your summoning wish counted.”_ _ _ _

____“That’s how I called on you? So if I never made a wish on it then you wouldn’t be here.”_ _ _ _

____“If history serves as any proof, yes.”_ _ _ _

____“So someone could just carry it around and ..”_ _ _ _

____“Never know what they’re holding?” he finished for her.  
“Mmmhm,” she nodded._ _ _ _

____“Potentially. But that’s never happened in my lifetime.”_ _ _ _

____“What exactly is _your_ lifetime?”_ _ _ _

____Vegeta was spared the hot seat when the sound of metal clicking into place sounded out from the door, followed by a faint creak. Bulma rocketed to the door, but lack of using her monthly gym membership caught up with her._ _ _ _

____“Hope you don’t mind I st…_ _ _ _

____...opped by.”____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your patience. Sorry for the long time between updates here :/ This chapter was pretty unpleasant to write. I still don’t know how I feel about it, but I needed to push through it to move on with the story. A little miscalculation on my part revealed that I never actually considered Bulma obviously wasn’t going to be like, ‘oh my god, three wishes? Neato! Let’s do it!” :P So I needed to explore the depth of her emotions a bit. Which I also found to be a little trying when attempting to keep it more realistic. I’m moving on from it at the moment, even though I heavily edited a lot of their conversation. I’m either going edit this chapter, or work the rest of the deets into the coming chapters. Clearly keeping her in character, she’s going to be super inquisitive and ask a ton more questions, but the chapter was already getting a little wordy, so we’re going to move on for now. 
> 
> To any other writers out there, how do you guys deal with getting blocked on a single chapter? I probably could've updated sooner but this ONE chapter kept taunting me and I backpedaled so many times. Do you just push on even if you're not 100% satisfied (like I clearly did here)? This happened a while back with TWEW and I wracked my brain trying to remember how I made it around the writer’s block with that one. As always guys, thanks for reading :) R and R if you want.


End file.
